In October of last year we received the devastating news that her uterus, which was removed through an operation done in July due to an enlarged fibrous growth, showed signs of cancer.
Her doctor, Prof Ng of HUKM called me up at work one fateful day in October with the grave news. The removed uterus had cancer cells. Though though the uterus was totally removed, there could be cancer cells still left in her body. She would need chemotheraphy.
Needless to say, I was shell-shocked. Only the day before was I teasing my mum for trying out several figure-hugging kebayas, something she was not able to wear previously, due to her huge protuding stomach before the operation. She had looked so radiant and happy, her face all rosy and smiling.
Did I want to break the news to her or would I leave it to him? I was too numb to reply.
I remember sitting at my desk staring at the walls of my office until slowly, the tears started to fall. The tears acted as a release. I was able to call up my husband and mother-in-law as well as caring family members and close friends for support and advice. Their words of encouragement became soothing balm that calmed my fearful heart and frayed nerves, and allowed me to go home to her with a more cheerful face and positive demeanour.
Needless to say, mum was devastated when she heard the news from her doctor (I had no guts to tell her myself). But being a strong person of faith, she faced the frightening prospect of chemotheraphy with calm determination and resilience. And through it all, she was secure in the knowledge that we - her children - were there by her side, me in body and my brother Jim, though far away in the UK, in spirit.
Alhamdulillah, through the pain, anxiety, discomfort and fear, my mum successfully completed her six cycles of chemotheraphy. Free from the horrendous effects of the cancer drugs that ravaged her body, she can now concentrate on the slow process of healing.
The three-month long weekly ordeal is finally over.
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